


In a Time of Magic

by PaddySnuffles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Acromantulas, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Blood Magic, Book Spoilers, Camelot, Clueless Merlin is clueless, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Dark Magic, F/M, Hermione is a BAMF, Humor, Magic, Magic Revealed, Magical Accidents, Magical Artifacts, Muggle/Wizard Relations, Romance, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, The Hogwarts library thinks it's funny (it's not), Time Travel, Unicorns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddySnuffles/pseuds/PaddySnuffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The book began to glow softly, and before Hermione could do so much as scream, the glow grew to an intense blinding light, which enveloped girl and book. As soon as it had come, the light disappeared, leaving the aisle empty, with a small brown book open on the floor. Rating could probably be G, but I'm paranoid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Erm, Where Am I?

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thanks to EusouoPumbaa for her patience when I asked for feedback every five sentences, putting up with my horrid chicken scratch, and allowing me to use her idea for the name of the translation spell. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Roses are red, Violets are blue, I do not own, so do not sue!

It was a cold midwinter day in December. Most of Hogwarts' occupants were bundled up even inside the castle, as the winter chill seemed to seep through the stones, reaching out to envelop anyone who stayed too long away from the warmth of one of the castle's many fireplaces. Few strayed from the comfort of the fire and a comfortable seat, no matter what activity they had immersed themselves in. Students did homework, chatted, and caught up on their studies. Hermione Granger, best friend of The-Boy-Who-Lived and a powerful witch in her own right, was one of the few brave souls to venture away from the comfort of the fires and the presence of her friends. Although usually seen on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room buried by books of all shapes and sizes, today she could be found slowly trudging through a darkened corner of the library, looking intently at the volumes she passed by.

She slowed down as she came to the end of the aisle. Hermione bent down and looked at the books at the bottom, searching for anything that seemed promising. Skimming through the titles, she stopped when she came across a thin, titleless book. Stuck between a thick old volume entitled A Detailed Historie of Magick by Soren Ivans and Legendary Wizards of the Ancient World by Catherine Adebar was a small brown book. Compared to the other books found in this section, it was very thin, no bigger than a thick muggle textbook. Pulling it out, Hermione realized it was obviously very ancient. The cover was made of very worn light brown leather, and was held closed by two rusted iron latches.

Sitting on the ground, Hermione carefully opened the latches. The book was hand written, and filled with detailed pictures of magical creatures and plants. The writing was, for the most part, a simple, yet elegant script, meticulously written. The margins however, were often filled with a scratchy hurried letters, and once or twice with a curvy fancy writing. Whoever had owned the book had clearly put it to good use. Some pages had stains on them, and a couple were even singed at the edges. The book, despite its age, reminded Hermione of Harry's and Ron's textbooks, which were always filled with comments and doodles made by the boy s (and a few made by herself). The book was written in another language, most likely Old English, considering how old the volume was.

Hermione pulled out her wand, pointed at herself, and murmured "Traduzium". She watched as the words morphed into English. As soon as they did, the book began to glow softly, and before Hermione could do so much as scream, the glow grew to an intense blinding light, which enveloped girl and book. As soon as it had come, the light disappeared, leaving the aisle empty, with a small brown book opened on the floor.

ɸ-Θ-ɸ

The day was hot. Really very, very hot. Merlin would have much rather stayed by the castle, working in the shade then trodding through the forest after Arthur. Of course, the prince had seen the weather as a chance to go hunting, and, instead of hiding from the heat, he had dragged Merlin with him.

"Merlin!" the aforementioned monarch whispered exasperatedly,"stop being so lazy and get a move on! We'll be lucky to catch a squirrel at the rate you're going!"

Sighing, the young warlock pulled the bag he held further up over his shoulder and picked up his pace to catch up to Arthur. Just after reaching his side, a twig snapped loudly to their left.

Arthur immediately raised his bow, pointing it to the area the noise had come from. Motioning to Merlin for silence, he slowy started to edge towards the source of the noise. As he moved closer, a figure appeared, fighting its way through the bushes. As it won its fight against the shrubbery, Arthur realized it was a young woman, no older than himself, perhaps even a couple years younger.

She had short light brown hair, fair skin, and hazel eyes. And was dressed quite indecently, but by the look of her clothing she was likely foreign, so the indecency was understandable. She wore a thin white shirt that looked like it was made of similar material as that of a nightdress, but of a finer make. The shirt had short elbow-length sleeves and a collar. It had buttons down the front, all the way to her hips, where the shirt ended. The shirt was untucked, and rested over a short gray skirt that reached just over her knees, with meticulously pressed folds all around it. Her knees were bare, but she had socks that matched her skirt, with plenty of twigs and leaves caught on the material. As she came slowly and warily into the trail, Arthur noted her shoes were made of an uncommonly shiny black leather, and she had her hair tied back messily with some odd ribbon, scarlet and golden yellow in colour. In her hands she held a black bundle, and a smooth polished stick.

"Erm, hello," the girl said uncertainly, "this might sound a bit odd, but, where am I?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows, "you don't know where you are?"

"I – I've… been traveling for some time, you see, and its been a while since I've come across anyone who could tell me where I was."

"You've been traveling, in this forest, by yourself?" Merlin asked incredulously.

"I can take care of myself," the girl replied indignantly.

Merlin gave her a questioning look.

"I can!"

"Well, of course you can," Arthur said seriously, trying not to laugh at the thought of the slight, weaponless girl defending herself against thieves or some beast that roamed the forest with nothing but her glorified twig, "but since we're all going in the same direction, would you give us the honour of escorting you to Camelot?"

"Er… I guess that'd make sense," The girl acquiesced uncertainly, "I'm Hermione, by the way. Hermione Granger."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Hermione Granger. I'm Prince Arthur Pendragon of Camelot, and that's my manservant, Merlin."

Hermione smiled and blushed, giving out a squeaky, shy "Hello" and proceeded to stare intently at the ground. The three started to make their way across the forest path, and as Merlin was oddly quiet, Arthur turned to Hermione, curious about the odd wild-looking girl.

"So, Miss Granger -"

"Hermione."

"Hermione. Where are you from?"

"Hogsmeade. It's a tiny village very far from here. I doubt you've heard of it, hardly anyone knows it even exists."

"It must be very far indeed. Your clothes are very different from the way women in Camelot dress. It might be wise to buy something… local when we arrive into town. How much money do you have to spend?" Arthur asked kindly.

"I was actually hoping to find work somewhere, I don't have any money anymore…" Hermione said somewhat embarrassedly.

"I'm sure we can find some kind of work for you at the castle. If Merlin here was able to get a job as my manservant, I'm sure you can at least get a job as a maid." Arthur assured her cheerfully.

Merlin flushed at the mention of his name, and quickly intervened to defend himself. "I got that job for saving your life! You'd be dead if it wasn't for me."

"And you've been late to work, insubordinate, and whiny ever since. The worst servant I've ever had."

The two continued bickering animatedly, while Hermione watched on, laughing at their antics. By the time they were within seeing distance of the castle, she had relaxed considerably.


	2. Dresses and House Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They reach Camelot and Hermione meets the rest of the Merlin cast.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. 

Dammit. 

For a moment, Hermione had held to the hope she had not gone too far back in time. The introduction made by the blond man, Arthur, utterly dashed her hopes all out the window. Remembering the rules McGonagall had drilled into her in third year, she had somehow miraculously managed to keep her cool. During the walk to the castle she remained relatively quiet, planning out what her story was going to be. An omitted (and slightly edited) version of the truth was probably best.

She lost all train of thought however when they went up a hill, and castle towers became visible. Her vision was soon filled with a grand castle, made with a light grey stone. It was a truly majestic sight, looking just like a real life fairytale castle. Which, Hermione realized with a quiet laugh, it was. Camelot was as present in muggle culture as it was in wizard culture. Muggle or otherwise, everyone knew about the legends of Arthur and his counselor, the sorcerer Merlin.

When they reached the inside of the castle walls, with people running every which way going about their daily business, the enormity of what had happened hit poor Hermione like a ton of bricks. She was completely and utterly alone and stuck in pre-Arthurian England. She had no "proper" clothes, nor the money to buy new ones with (she doubted galleons, sickles, and knuts would do her any good). Hermione didn't even speak the language. Were it not for her translating spell on that damn book, she would have never understood a word anyone said. At lest she had her wand, and her school clothes as a reminder of home, her last link to her time and her world.

ɸ-Θ-ɸ  
Arthur led her to a lavishly decorated room, where a beautiful raven haired, fair skinned young woman in an equally stunning dark purple dress sat reading a book. He exchanged some quiet words with her and turned to Hermione.

"Morgana has agreed to lend you one of her dresses. You are, of course, more than welcome to join us at tonight's feast."

Morgana then proceeded to shoo the boys from the room, while asking for them to send "Gwen" up to help her.

"Lady Granger, do you have a preference as to what colour you wear? I do not wish to insult you by offering you a colour that may mean something bad wherever it is you're from."

"No, not at all, I don't want to impose. Any spare dress will do fine. And please, call me Hermione."

"Very well, Hermione it is, then," Morgana conceded with a smile, "but you must call me Morgana in return."

Hermione was not sure what to make of the young woman. The myths of Camelot told of the sorceress Morgana, of course, but there were so many conflicting accounts about the witch it was hard to know what was accurate. Though quiet and reserved Hermione felt the witch was no more evil and dangerous than she was. Deciding to trust her instincts she made a silent agreement with herself to treat the stories of an evil Morgana as false, unless she gave Hermione a reason to doubt that.

"Morgana, I was wondering, why did you call me 'Lady Granger'?" Hermione asked her curiously.

Morgana looked up surprised, "Well, I thought it was obvious. Your clothes are very finely made, no matter how…exotic they might be, and your hair ribbon is made of expensive colours. No one outside of nobility has the money for something dyed scarlet and bright yellow, especially in that pattern."

She was interrupted from saying anything else by a knock on the door, after which a beautiful slight young woman with curly black hair and tanned olive skin poked her head through the door.

"You called for me, milady?"

"Yes, Gwen, come in. this is Lady Hermione Granger of Hogsmeade, she is to stay with us a while and requires assistance on choosing a dress to wear. I was thinking one of these two would suit her well, what do you think?"

The next few minutes were filled with the two medieval girls happily dressing up Hermione. Much to the modern witch's surprise, she soon came to understand the servant girl was named Guinevere. As in Queen Guinevere. Though obviously that hadn't yet come to pass. Eventually she was dressed in a beautiful crimson gown lined with gold thread, after she admitted that those were indeed her "house colours". Which wasn't a lie, really. It wasn't her fault if their idea of what a house colour was was different from the modern term. They adorned her hair with a thin golden circlet, and pulled up part of her hair to keep it from falling in her face, pinning it with simple bronze pins. They finished just in time to go to the feast.


	3. Dinner and Potions

Hermione entered the dining hall, which reminded her of a smaller version of the Great Hall back at Hogwarts. Instead of the many tables however, this hall had only one. It was a massive, extremely long table made of a dark wood, which held silver and brass plates, goblets and candles, with space for what Hermione could only assume would be filled by the food once everyone was settled.

At the head of the table sat a middle aged man, with brown hair peppered with grey. Arthur sat to his right, and Merlin stood behind him.

"You can sit with me, Hermione," Morgana said quietly, leading her to the seats beside the king on his left.

"Ah, Lady Hermione! Father, this is the young woman I was telling you about!" Arthur exclaimed happily when he saw Hermione trailing behind Morgana.

"Lady Granger. I must admit I have never heard of your lands or your family before. Please, sit. Tell us about your home. Why have you travelled so far to Camelot?" King Uther asked her as she sat down, and motioned to a servant to begin bringing in the food.

"Oh. Um, let's see. I'm from a village called Hogsmeade in the kingdom of Hogwarts. I had to come across the sea, from the mainland to reach Camelot, that's how far my home is. I'd never seen the sea before, or even heard of it until I came to the shore where I took the boat that brought me here. I'm the daughter of a Duke, but I live in a small village. You see, our kingdom is in danger of being overrun by a dark sorcerer known as Voldemort. He was a Baronet in our King's court, but he turned to the Dark Arts in search of power. He's become all but invincible, and has increasing support, as the only choices he gives are to join him or be killed. He has been killing all the nobility, we don't know why. My friends and I, being children of the nobility of highest rank, were sent to Hogsmeade for protection. Recently, we received word Voldemort had killed my parents and learned of our whereabouts, so each of us left in opposite directions, attempting to get as far from the kingdom as we possibly could. My companion, my faithful servant Dobby, was killed by Voldemort as we fled the outskirts of the kingdom. I barely made it out with my life."

"You have my greatest sympathy, Lady Granger. We share your views on sorcery here at Camelot, and you are welcome to stay here for as long as you believe you require before it is safe for you to return," King Uther said.

"Your land forbids magic?" Hermione asked surprisedly. What was the world coming to? Merlin and Guinevere were servants; magic wasn't allowed… what next? Merlin and Morgana weren't really sorcerers?

"That surprises you?" Uther replied.

"A little. I don't know why. After all, there are no sorcerers running about."

"Indeed not. Sorcery is outlawed in Camelot. Sorcerers and anyone caught helping them are to be put to death, under our laws. You need not fear magic while in my kingdom."

ɸ-Θ-ɸ

Hermione had been given a room by Morgana's own bedroom. That night, lying in bed, she contemplated what she would do now. With magic being forbidden, she could hardly ask Merlin or Morgana for help, in case the legends had got that wrong as well. She couldn't outright ask for help, and couldn't even use her magic when alone, in case someone caught her.

After much tossing and turning, she fell into a fretful but dreamless sleep, only waking when the sun managed to sneak through the window and warm her face. Soon after waking, Gwen came in to help her dress, and lead her to the hall for breakfast.

The morning was turning out to be rather boring. As a noble, she was not expected to do any work other than painting, sewing, or arranging flowers. Hermione had never been good at crafts. By mid morning she had taken to wandering the castle, exploring its enormity and praying for something, anything, to do. Walking down a torch lit windowless corridor, she saw a semi open door with a warm light filtering through. Peeking through the crack, she saw an old man, hard at work at making some sort of potion. 

Potions. Now, this she could do!

She knocked gently. The older man looked up surprised, smiling softly when he saw her lingering by the door.

"Ah, come in my dear! There's no need to be shy. You must be the visitor from far away I've heard so much about. I'm Gaius, the court Physician."

"I'm sorry, I was walking through the corridor, and the door was open. I saw you were mixing potions, and I couldn't help but be intrigued... I've always had a knack for it myself… I'm sorry for intruding, I can see you're hard at work," Hermione said shily.

"Nonsense!" Gaius said happily, "it's never a bother to make new friends, especially from someone interested in potion-making. Feel free to drop by anytime, if ever you need anything. I was just preparing some liverwort balm. It does wonders for healing headaches. Would you like to help?"

Hermione's face lit up at his offer, and the morning then flew by, with Gaius teaching her not only how to make the liverwort balm, but also how to make a potion to help with one's eyesight, and how to tell the difference between St. Peter's wort and St. John's wort. She begun attempting to reproduce the balm she had helped the elderly physician make, when Merlin burst through the door.

ɸ-Θ-ɸ

"Gaius, I have to eat quickly today, Arthur wants me to help him practice his sparring, then I'm sure he'll want me to clean the swords, you know how he gets when –" Merlin cut himself off when he saw who Gaius had in his company.

The odd young noblewoman he and Arthur had rescued from the forest stood by the physician's work table, a vile of purple liquid in one hand and a small iron measuring spoon in the other, hair tied back in a messy knot.

She looked just as surprised to find him here as he was to find her. She was here, in his home.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were with someone. Lady Hermione, how are you? You look much better rested," he started babbling.

Hermione blushed, "I'm fine, thank you. Please, call me just Hermione. Lady Hermione just seems so… formal."

"Very well. Erm, lunch should be served shortly, so perhaps you might want to leave now if you don't want to miss it. I could take you if you want."

"Thank you. I'm bound to get lost if I go by myself," she said with a laugh, "Gaius, may I come back to help you after lunch?"

"Of course."

Hermione put down the vial and spoon, and turned to Merlin, indicating for him to lead the way.


	4. Nightmares and Reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a nightmare, Merlin does his best to comfort her.

It had been a little over a week since Hermione Granger had run into Merlin and Arthur at the outskirts of the forest. If Merlin thought she was a little odd before he had a chance to know her, he was now sure she was the weirdest noble he had ever met. She said please and thank you when asking servants for something, called them by name, and often looked apologetic when she asked for anything that would be a lot of work.

As the days had gone by, instead of doing whatever high end girls did, she always scuttled over to Gaius'. There, she could be found cleaning the physician's work area, learning a new potion, or filling up lowering stocks of everyday potions for minor injuries and ailments. She had, in short, become Gaius' unofficial apprentice. As she spent so much time with the old man, it was inevitable she and Merlin spent a lot of time together, and the two were becoming fast friends.

ɸ-Θ-ɸ

Arthur had invited Morgana, Hermione, Gwen and Merlin to go to a nearby meadow for a picnic. Merlin was to prepare and carry the basket, of course. He had gotten up extra early in order to have the basket done in time to do his regular chores before the picnic. He dressed quietly and managed to sneak out without waking Gaius. The hallways were just beginning to become agitated, mainly by servants going about their daily duties.

Merlin smiled when he saw the fires of the kitchen already were burning brightly, and he could smell the baking bread long before he reached the kitchens. He entered the kitchens with a bounce in his step. Though it meant he had to be up earlier than usual, he was still going to have a day of relative rest. And eat royal food. The kitchen was extremely quiet compared to its usual hustle and bustle, which Merlin, not being much of a morning person, had rarely seen before.

He was surprised to find Cook, a stern but kind woman with a gently rounded face and salt and pepper hair that was always tied in a bun, was not doing her routine of coordinating the workings of the busy room, but rather, was sitting on a stool by the fire, an arm wrapped around Hermione and a handkerchief gently drying the girl's watery eyes. Hermione in turn had a dark red velvet coat wrapped around her, with her hair framing her face in soft waves. Her eyes were slightly red, and she held a mug in her hands.

Merlin felt his heart clench when he realized she'd been crying.

"There, dearie, don't worry, I'm sure they're all fine. Everyone has bad dreams once in a while, it doesn't mean they come true," Cook said quietly to the girl.

"What's wrong?" Merlin asked worriedly, quickly making his way to join the two women.

"Hermione had a bad dream, that's all," Cook replied softly, "I have to go make sure nothing burns, Merlin, can you stay with her a while?"

"Of course," he replied, taking over Cook's place. The woman gave Hermione an apologetic look and hurried to care for her kitchen. Merlin turned to Hermione.

"What was the dream about?" he asked.

Hermione bit her lip.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Merlin continued, "but I find keeping things bottled up just makes them worse. They fester. Like a wound."  
She was quiet for so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer him. When she did, it was so softly, it was almost a whisper.

"I… I dreamt of home. I wasn't there, and Voldemort f-found m-my f-friends… and I was-sn't t-there t-to protect them…" she stuttered and burst out into quiet strangled sobs.

Merlin's heart broke at the sight of his new friend. She had started trembling so hard he had to take the mug from her hands, lest she spill it all over herself. He put on the floor and turned his attentions back to the girl beside him. He hadn't really thought much how hard this must be for her. Hermione seemed so happy and well acclimated to court life, he had forgotten all about the reason she had come to Camelot to begin with. The only reminder he had that she was from far away was the indistinguishable accent she had, and the foreign words she sometimes used. It had never occurred to him how hard leaving everything, including her culture and language really was. He had left his home to come to Camelot, but it wasn't as though he were very far away. And at least he had Gaius already waiting for his arrival.

Hesitantly, he put his arms around her, strengthening his hold when she leant into him for comfort. After a while, she calmed down, and they sat there in silence, Hermione sniffling softly once in a while.

Suddenly, as if realizing what she was doing, Hermione sprang up wiping her eyes with her sleeves and looking embarrassed It was quite possible she would be blushing furiously as well, were her face not already red from crying.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'll leave you to whatever you were doing before…" she made her way almost out the door when he realized where she was going. Without taking time to think of what he was saying, Merlin took one last attempt to soothe his friend, "I… I know it's nowhere near what you must be going through, but I know how you feel. I had to leave my home as well," he said, "I know how it feels to leave loved ones behind. And I know how it feels to loose them. My friend Will died last year, so I know what that dream must have made you feel like. If you ever have another dream like that… don't hesitate to come to talk to me. Anytime. I'm your friend, I hope, and I want to help."

Hermione looked at him, gave a grateful smile, and whispered thank you, before sliding out the door. Merlin sighed and got to work on preparing the picnic basket.


	5. Picnics and Griffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group goes on a picnic and encounters some unexpected company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so there's no confusion, a gryphon and a griffin is the same thing gryphon being the older term for the creature, griffin being the more modern term (at least where I'm from). Even in medieval times griffins were considered a creature of wisdom and strength, thus griffin claws (actually antelope horns) were very sought after by nobility to turn into cups. Hence Arthur's anger at not being able to kill it. The information on griffin's habits and the differences between griffins and hipogryphs was taken from Wikipedia.

Arthur moved to strike as the gryphon came at him, it stopped in mid air, looking slightly dazed, attempting to double back as if scared by something. Arthur managed to slash at one of its legs, making a shallow wound. The creature shrieked in pain before careening back. It moved too fast, making itself fall to the ground on its back with a loud thud. As Arthur came running at it, the gryphon jumped up, and awkwardly moved backwards, before turning and galloping in the direction of the forest. Arthur gave chase, only to be thrown heavily to the ground by an invisible force, the gryphon taking flight back into the safety of the forest. Someone had used magic to look out for the beast. He was sure of it.

-~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-

Hermione gasped as she felt her magic do its work. She had created a some form of a silent Protego charm to shield Arthur, it was the only explanation for why the griffin had stopped so suddenly. When Arthur had given chase to the retreating wounded animal, she had felt another surge of magic, which had pushed the young monarch to the ground, giving the magical creature enough time to run away.

She rushed towards Arthur along with the others.

"Are you alright?"

"What happened?"

"That was an amazing move!"

"D'you reckon it'll come back?"

"Yes. I'm not sure. Thank you. And no. But as I was running towards the beast I felt something push me down. It was magic. I'm sure of it. Someone didn't want me to kill that gryphon. We have a sorcerer in Camelot." Arthur said as he angrily got up, helping Merlin quickly stuff everything in the basket, and they all left quickly towards the castle.

Hermione was trembling. What if they found out it was her (even if by accident)? Or worse, blamed it on someone who had nothing to do with it? She had suppressed her magic for too long and it had built up and boiled over. If she left it compressed and locked away like that again, the result could be even worse (a faceless image of Harry's blown up aunt popped into her head). And now, with the witch hunt that was sure to follow, she would have to be extra extra careful… while at the same time using her magic enough so that it would not accumulate like that again. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, Hermione jumped when Gwen laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," the serving maid said with a sweet smile, "you saw how Arthur was able to fight the gryphon. Whoever this sorcerer is, he won't be able to hide for long."

Hermione smiled softly, and assured her she was not worried.

~-~-~-~--~-~-~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Arthur was grouchy the rest of the day, making Merlin do twice as much work as he usually ordered him to do. By the end of the day, the young warlock was more than ready to collapse on a chair or a bed and never get up again.

When he came into the rooms he shared with Gaius that night, he was surprised to find Hermione setting up the table as Gaius stirred the cooking pot.

"Ah, Merlin! There you are! I've invited Hermione to dine with us tonight as everyone is so busy with getting things in order for that warlock hunt. Come, sit down, you look exhausted."

Merlin slumped down on the nearest chair, too tired to argue, but at the same time wide awake with the knowledge of the presence of the girl who had just sat opposite himself on the small wooden table. Gaius brought Merlin a plate full of steaming stew, and sat to his right.

"So," the physician said as he scooped up some of the broth, "what exactly attacked you lot today? Some people have been saying a sorcerer, others say it was a gryphon."

"It was a griffin. Or, a gryphon is what I suppose you might call it," Hermione said looking slightly uneasy, "I thought at first it was a hipogryph, which I thought was odd, because hipogryphs aren't known for being violent unless provoked. But then I noticed it had an eagle's head and front of the body, but its hind legs were a lion's, not a horse's."

Merlin stared at Hermione, feeling impressed at her obvious knowledge.

"I read a lot," she offered, noticing the look on the warlock's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys. Internet in Cuba is a tricky thing, and to top it off my friends and I went on a trip for Spring Break to Havana, Soroa and Viñales. While Havana did have a place we could plug in it was really expensive ($10 CUCs per hour! And here I thought $12 CUCs for two hours was bad!). As to the other two towns, I don't even know where (or if) one would go to get internet. :P
> 
> I'm really sorry for double posting the past chapeter, guys. I've been a little all over the place due to school. I know it's no excuse, but still.


	6. Griffins and Hipogryphs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The picnic adventures continue and magic overload takes place.

Arthur moved to strike as the gryphon came at him, it stopped in mid air, looking slightly dazed, attempting to double back as if scared by something. Arthur managed to slash at one of its legs, making a shallow wound. The creature shrieked in pain before careening back. It moved too fast, making itself fall to the ground on its back with a loud thud. As Arthur came running at it, the gryphon jumped up, and awkwardly moved backwards, before turning and galloping in the direction of the forest. Arthur gave chase, only to be thrown heavily to the ground by an invisible force, the gryphon taking flight back into the safety of the forest. Someone had used magic to look out for the beast. He was sure of it.

-~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-

Hermione gasped as she felt her magic do its work. She had created a some form of a silent Protego charm to shield Arthur, it was the only explanation for why the griffin had stopped so suddenly. When Arthur had given chase to the retreating wounded animal, she had felt another surge of magic, which had pushed the young monarch to the ground, giving the magical creature enough time to run away.

She rushed towards Arthur along with the others.

"Are you alright?"

"What happened?"

"That was an amazing move!"

"D'you reckon it'll come back?"

"Yes. I'm not sure. Thank you. And no. But as I was running towards the beast I felt something push me down. It was magic. I'm sure of it. Someone didn't want me to kill that gryphon. We have a sorcerer in Camelot." Arthur said as he angrily got up, helping Merlin quickly stuff everything in the basket, and they all left quickly towards the castle.

Hermione was trembling. What if they found out it was her (even if by accident)? Or worse, blamed it on someone who had nothing to do with it? She had suppressed her magic for too long and it had built up and boiled over. If she left it compressed and locked away like that again, the result could be even worse (a faceless image of Harry's blown up aunt popped into her head). And now, with the witch hunt that was sure to follow, she would have to be extra extra careful… while at the same time using her magic enough so that it would not accumulate like that again. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, Hermione jumped when Gwen laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Don't worry," the serving maid said with a sweet smile, "you saw how Arthur was able to fight the gryphon. Whoever this sorcerer is, he won't be able to hide for long."

Hermione smiled softly, and assured her she was not worried.

~-~-~-~--~-~-~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Arthur was grouchy the rest of the day, making Merlin do twice as much work as he usually ordered him to do. By the end of the day, the young warlock was more than ready to collapse on a chair or a bed and never get up again.

When he came into the rooms he shared with Gaius that night, he was surprised to find Hermione setting up the table as Gaius stirred the cooking pot.

"Ah, Merlin! There you are! I've invited Hermione to dine with us tonight as everyone is so busy with getting things in order for that warlock hunt. Come, sit down, you look exhausted."

Merlin slumped down on the nearest chair, too tired to argue, but at the same time wide awake with the knowledge of the presence of the girl who had just sat opposite himself on the small wooden table. Gaius brought Merlin a plate full of steaming stew, and sat to his right.

"So," the physician said as he scooped up some of the broth, "what exactly attacked you lot today? Some people have been saying a sorcerer, others say it was a gryphon."

"It was a griffin. Or, a gryphon is what I suppose you might call it," Hermione said looking slightly uneasy, "I thought at first it was a hipogryph, which I thought was odd, because hipogryphs aren't known for being violent unless provoked. But then I noticed it had an eagle's head and front of the body, but its hind legs were a lion's, not a horse's."

Merlin stared at Hermione, feeling impressed at her obvious knowledge.

"I read a lot," she offered, noticing the look on the warlock's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to leave you guys with extra chapters because as of Sunday I may no longer have internet until I'm back to Canada (my plane leaves Hoguin on April 22nd). President Chavez has passed away, and depending on who gets voted in on Sunday Cuba could possibly have its internet source cut off. So if I disappear, that's why. If that happens, I pologize, but there aint much I can do. C'est la vie.


	7. Talking and Messy Rooms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione discusses picnic events and Merlin is not a morning person.

"A hipogryph?" Gaius asked, "I think you mean to say a hipogryphe. But those are just legends nowadays. Their race died off a long time ago. There hasn't been a sighting in Camelot or the neighbouring kingdoms in over a hundred years. Gryphons on the other hand are more or less common in the wooded areas. Its one of the only places King Uther hasn't bothered to attempt an extermination of magical creatures, as not many people venture far into the woods. You were lucky to survive the attack, unprepared as you were. Gryphons are rather nasty creatures. Very ill tempered. And violent."

"But why was it in the outskirts of the forest, if it knows its not safe?" Merlin inquired with a confused frown.

"I don't know, Merlin. Perhaps it was lost. Or it was young and unaware of the dangers of leaving the forest. Who knows?"

"What if it was a sorcerer?" Merlin asked worriedly.

"Then Uther will have it dealt with, just as he has in the past. Eat your carrots."

Merlin groaned and began to argue back, but before he could say much of anything a knock resounded on the door and a soldier came into the room.

"The king requires your presence immediately," he said to Gaius in a slightly bored tone.

Gaius sighed and got up.

"Very well, he said, "tell his majesty I shall be there shortly. "

Stopping at the door, Gaius gave Merlin one of his best "mother bear" glares and said seriously "When I get back you had better have eaten those carrots. Or else. And don't even think of putting them back into the pot. I'll know."

He would too.

The elderly physician left, closing the door behind him. As soon as he did, Hermione burst out giggling.

"Wow, he sounded just like my mum… I take it you don't like carrots?"

"How could you tell?" Merlin said grinning.

"I have my sources. Why don't you like them?"

"I dunno… they taste… icky."

"You sound like my friend Ron," Hermione snorted, "he shovels pretty much everything and anything into his mouth, except carrots. It's rather disgusting sometimes, actually."

Merlin laughed, "Well, at home I ate them, because you'd never know for how long you'd have food for, but since here food is more or less guaranteed… I figure I've earned the right to be picky. Plus, it drives Gaius up the wall."

Hermione gave another giggle before concentrating some more on the stew in front of her. Merlin followed suit. The two ate in silence for a while. As they were finishing Merlin gathered up his courage to ask her something he'd been wanting to ask for a while.

"Hermione… What's your home like? I mean, the kingdom you come from must be very different from Camelot…"

Hermione froze and stared at her bowl for a second, looking deep in thought. Merlin half expected her to tell him it was none of his business.

Instead, her expression changed into one of guarded resolve, and she asked "What would you like to know?"

Not having expected the reaction he received, Merlin's mind came up blank.

"Erm… Is your home very different from here?"

"Yes," Hermione replied with an odd little smile, "Very. You have no idea."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

The next few hours were filled with conversation. Hermione explained to him about her life carefully filtering out any information about magic, or any muggle inventions the people of this time might perceive as magic. Merlin was curious and eager to find out about what life was like in a "foreign land", and soon enough they had talked about topics ranging from indoor plumbing and toothbrushes ("you clean your teeth with a brush?!") to school and jury duty.

Hermione felt rather good about sharing this with Merlin. As long as he didn't know the things they talked about were from the future, she didn't see how she could be breaking any time-travel laws (muggle or wizard). And to talk of her home had a therapeutic effect. She may have been hiding her magic, where she was really from, and a myriad of other things. But at least she could still be partially truthful. She was in the middle of explaining to Merlin the way (wizard) currency worked when the bell struck the time.

"Is it really eleven already?" She asked looking slightly startled.

"Wow… I guess. I can escort you to your room if you like." Merlin replied.

~--~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

The next morning Merlin was startled awake by Gaius. Groaning, the young warlock looked at his window to see the pale morning sun filtering softly to the foot of his bed.

"Gaaaiuuuss… it's still early! Why are you waking me up? Go away," he mumbled before turning towards the wall.

"All right. I just thought you'd like to know you have a visitor, and she's waiting for you to wake up to come in. I'll just tell Hermione to come by later, shall I?"

Merlin's eyes shot open, and sat up so fast he felt his back crack.

"I thought you might feel that way," Gaius said with a smirk, "I'll be needing the table for some potion-making, so you'll have to eat over here. Door open please. I'll stall for you to get dressed and get some of this mess hidden away."

The old physician snuck out the door, throwing Merlin an amused look and closed the door behind him. Merlin looked around his room feeling a full-on panic attack. Unlike Arthur's meticulously kept room, Merlin's was so messy it looked like a small tornado had swept across it. Clothes lay splayed every each way. Bits of parchment littered the floor and a small almost-hidden desk, covered with so many books and accumulated junk it was a wonder it hadn't cracked from the weight.

Merlin immediately got up from his wrinkled bed, got his feet tangled on the covers and promptly fell to the floor.

Drastic times called for drastic measures. There was only one way to get this room looking slightly close to presentable in time.

"Feormian sēo rūm hraþe," he whispered softly as he pulled on the last tunic he had actually folded in his wardrobe. The clothes all started swooshing into the wardrobe, landing in a haphazard pile to the left. The right was soon filled with a pile of flying scrap bits of parchments. The books righted themselves on the now (mostly) clean desk, his spell book landing at the top.

"Leger," he told it as he pulled some pants on.

The book obediently zoomed under the bed.

Closing the doors to his wardrobe, Merlin opened the door to his room, coming face to face with a grinning Hermione.

"Good morning!" she said happily, "I got up early today and couldn't get back to sleep. So I figured, since you must have to wake up early to get Arthur's things in order for the day I'd come by and say hi! I brought breakfast."

He looked at her hands, where she held a small basket hooked to her arm, and two steaming mugs of something that smelled faintly of honey.

Noting his messy hair and slightly bleary-eyed look, her smile wavered.

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"N-no! No! I always just take a while to wake up," he reassured her quickly.

She laughed, "You're not much of a morning person, are you?"

"I'm not much of a waking up person. Whether I wake up now or at noon, the problem is I'd still be sleepy."

"Aaaah… I know what you mean. It seems between me and my friends, only Neville, Luna, and I actually enjoy getting up," Hermione said while setting down the mugs on the table they had eaten dinner the previous evening.

"Oh, erm, Gaius is going to be using the table. We'll have to eat on the desk in my room," Merlin said blushing.

"Oh… ok," Hermione replied, looking slightly startled.

Merlin picked up the mugs and led the way to his small room. Surprising him yet again, she made no comment over how it was indecorous for her to be in his bedchamber. She merely followed him, set the basket on the semi-clean desk, and proceeded to take out the items. She'd brought a few warm soft rolls, fresh butter, and a small chunk of cheese.

"So… this is your room, huh?" she asked, looking around with a shy but curious look.

"Yes. It's not much, I know," he replied, looking slightly embarrassed.

"I like it. It's simple, but not Spartan. Comfy."

"What's a 'Spartan'?"

"Oh. They were an ancient warrior race. Part of what they believed made good warriors was having only the bare necessities in their home. To make them tough and inventive, I suppose. Back home, to say a room's really Spartan means that it's really bare. It only has the bare minimum."

"Ah," was all he could think to reply.


	8. Culture Differences and Swords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a moment of culture shock and a dicussion about swords (not THAT kind of sword, people. get your heads out of the gutter!) takes place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've no idea if Hermione took fencing lessons as a kid, but I'm drawing upon my own meager knowledge from when I took classes years back and saying she did a little. A rapier is very similar to the swords the Three Musketeers or Captain Hook use – the hand is covered by a metal protection, and the blade is thin and has a wicked sharp point, as these swords are meant for stabbing, not slashing. The sword she was given is that traditional broadsword we see in medieval stories and the Merlin series, which were used for slashing, not jabbing and stabbing.

They spent the next couple of hours picking up where they left off on the previous night's conversation. Had Gaius not popped his head in to remind them of the time, Merlin would have been late to go serve Arthur at his morning duties. (Granted, that wasn't unusual, but there was no need for Hermione to know that).

As he entered the prince's bedchamber, Arthur looked up from his seat at the edge of his bed.

"Honestly, Merlin," he ground out as he fought with his boot, "have you never heard of knocking? Actually, never mind. Don't answer that. I forgot who I was speaking to. And why are you up this early? I always have to remind you to not oversleep."

"It must've finally sunk in," Merlin replied, ignoring the first attempt at insulting him. He was in a good mood, and the prince wasn't about to ruin it.

He spent the rest of the day deflecting the grumpy ill-tempered barbs his friend sent his way, patiently understanding his need to take his frustrations out on something. Or rather, someone. Merlin listened quietly as Arthur made a series of plans and strategies to draw out the magic-user, and what would be done once they knew the culprit. Though he would rest easier when the threat was taken care of, it made Merlin no less worried.

The first way Arthur was going to use to attempt the capture was simple and direct, but undoubtedly risky: go into the forest. Attack any magical creature that crossed their path. (Except unicorns, which were to be avoided at all costs since their last encounter with one). Hope the sorcerer would have their attention caught enough to appear. The hunt would begin the next morning.

That afternoon, during dinner, Arthur explained it all in detail to his father. Not to Merlin's surprise, the girls had their own thoughts to add.

"Well, that makes sense," Morgana said to Arthur, "but won't the hunting tire you? To face a sorcerer you should have as much strength as you can. After all, you won't have magic on your side."

"True," he replied, "but we're going in two groups with large numbers. That way we can take turns fighting creatures and save up energy. Assuming we even find any."

"In that case, I'd like to come along," Hermione piped up.

"Most certainly not!" Uther immediately replied, "this is far too dangerous, especially for women!" At that comment, Merlin inwardly cringed. Women in Camelot didn't like to be told they were weaker then men. By what Hermione had told him of her home, women in her land were more often than not ready to pummel anyone who used this line of thinking towards them. He wasn't sure if he should be worried for the king or for Hermione.

"In Hogwarts we're all taught at a young age how to deal with magical creatures. We learn about all their weaknesses and strengths, where to find them, and, most importantly, how to defend ourselves. I've been taught since the age of eleven. You won't find someone more knowledgeable. And I've been taught fencing too. I can hold my own as well as any man."

"Fencing?"

"Er… Swordsmanship."

Looking impressed, Uther agreed to let her go, on the condition she would go mainly as a guide to provide tactical information, and would stay away from the fighting, with Arthur's manservant. Arthur was then instructed to find her some weapons in case she should need them.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~~-~-~-~-~~-~-

After cleaning the sword and its scabbard Merlin made his way to her room, hoping she hadn't gone to sleep just yet. Knocking on the door, he held the weapon more securely in his arms. When the door opened, Merlin just stared. The candles and fireplace in the room were all lit, meaning the room was filled with light. Which meant he could clearly see Hermione. And she was in her sleeping gown. It was made of white linen with silver flowers stitched around the necline, had slightly puffed sleeves, and dipped just below her collarbone. It clung slightly to her curves, and was a couple centimetres from dragging on the ground. The shorter part of her hair framed her face, while the rest was tied back with a small length of lace, which mean he could see a bit of her shoulders. Oh my.

"Merlin! Hi, come in!" she said happily, seemingly oblivious to her state of undress.

"I- … T-the sword. For tomorrow. For the… t-the thing. Tomorrow." he managed to stutter out, blushing furiously and averting his eyes.

"Merlin? Are you ok? Is something wrong?" Hermione asked worriedly stepping closer to let the light shine on his face.

"Fine!" Merlin squeaked out, "I am. Fine, that is…"

"Then why are you so uncomfortable?"

Did she really not know?

"Er… Y-you… forgot to put your robe on."

"Robe?" she asked, continuing to look confused, if not even more so.

"You're in your sleepwear."

"Oh. Sorry. I'll go get a robe. Come on in, don't stand there like a statue." She slinked back into the room, and made for a chair near her bed, which had the robe she had used that morning they had med in the kitchens draped over it. He followed behind, bumping into the door as he looked at the floor.

"This chemise is so long poofy and dress-like I thought it wouldn't be a big deal… Culture difference I suppose," she said as she tied the robe tightly around herself.

"Yes… Erm… here's your sword for tomorrow. Clean and shiny and sharp," he said, handing over the weapon.

"Thanks," she replied with a laugh, testing the weight of it. "Wow, this is a lot heavier than a rapier… then again, the whole make of it is completely different. How do you properly hold this thing?"

"I thought you said you knew how to use a sword?"

"I do! But the cross-guard I'm used to covers part of the hand, the sword has no pommel, and the grip has grooves, it's not this straight!"


	9. Horses and Unicorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione rides a horse for the first time and Arthur and his knights have an impromptu lesson on Care of Magical Creatures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The info on unicorn foals was mostly made up, though some of the info was borrowed from the Harry Potter books.

The next morning was surprisingly chilly. As she was sure there would be horseback riding involved, as well as trudging through the forest, Hermione had insisted Gwen find her a pair of pants. After much arguing, the maidservant had given her a pair of brown pants, which were slightly baggy (as it was made for male use). After a lot of thought, Hermione had also decided to wear her school clothes instead of a borrowed dress – as beautiful as the dresses available were, in a forest any dress would only get in the way.

She wore her skirt over the pants (this way the men would only have a half heart attack at her choice of wardrobe), white button-up shirt loose from the skirt or pants, and her school robe. She had also pocketed her scarf and gloves in case she got cold. Underneath the shirt, she had buckled the belt which held her sword, as well a thinner, more delicate belt she used to carry her wand. It was better to be safe than sorry after all.

She made her way to the kitchens, grabbing a warm soft roll to eat on the way, and hurried to the castle's entrance hall. As she reached the top of the stairs, she noticed Merlin standing with his back to her, staring at the grand staircase.

Sneaking quietly, she stopped right behind him and asked, "Watcha doin'?"

With a strangled yelp Merlin jumped and whirled around to face her. "Hermione! How did you get there?"

"I walked. It's this nifty thing people do where they move their legs. Who were you waiting for?"

"You. Arthur told me to let you know the knights are getting things ready outside, and you need to pick your horse. Are you wearing pants?"

"You try walking in a forest in a skirt and then we'll talk."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Hermione clung to the reign for all she was worth. Being a city girl in the 21rst century, she had ridden on a horse once. Well, a pony. When she was six. And her mum had pulled her around. Her only other experience from riding an animal had been Buckbeak, but she had just clung to Harry and prayed to live long enough to see another sunrise. And a thestral. But she'd tried to block that memory.

"Don't worry my lady. We won't let anything harm you," a knight said to her, as he trotted behind her.

"Thanks," she said, "but that's not why I'm nervous. It's just that I've never ridden a horse before."

Everyone turned and stared at her. Uh-oh. Had she said something wrong?

"Never ridden a horse before?" Arthur asked, looking amazed, "How did you get around if you never rode a horse?"

Oh. Right. Whoops. She'd forgotten horses were the only type of land transportation in this time, as common as cars back home. Think fast.

"W-well, I usually rode around in carriages, or on carts. When I rode on a horse, I was always sitting behind someone."

"Oh," the group murmured.

Apparently that was a reasonable explanation. Thank God. Feeling a chilly breeze sweep by, Hermione shivered. Holding the horse tightly with her legs, she held the reigns tightly in one hand, as she carefully reached for the gloves she had pocketed earlier. Pulling them out, she was unsure how to put them on.

Hermione looked around, realizing they must be getting close to their destination. They were already in a wide road (by medieval standards), which was closed by trees on either side.

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

They had ridden for another fifteen minutes, before riding a small distance through a smaller road to a clearing, where they tied the horses. Three knights were to set up camp and watch the horses while the others hunted. Hermione was assigned to go with Arthur and Merlin's group, much to her relief. They had been trudging through the underbrush for a while, when Arthur stopped and motioned for silence. Looking around, trying to see what had caught the prince's attention, Hermione's eyes widened. In the middle of their path, a little ways ahead of them was a unicorn foal grazing by a patch of sunlight.

Small and graceful, it had a shiny pure gold fur, and she could see the beginnings of its white horn peeking out of its tiny forehead. It seemed to be alone, but as is the case with all babies, she was sure its mother couldn't be far. Looking at Arthur, she felt a chill as she realized he was about to shoot it.

"Don't!" she whispered harshly.

"What? It's a magical creature. We came here to hunt them remember?" he replied in a slightly annoyed tone.

"You said you wouldn't kill unicorns though. And I couldn't let you even if you were. You don't mess with unicorns. Unless you know exactly what you're doing."

"Yes. But that's not a unicorn. Unicorns are pure white, with equally white horns, much longer than the one that creature has," he replied in a patient tone, as if explaining things to a small child.

"That's what grown unicorns are like. This one's still a foal. When they're babies their fur is pure gold, and they're not born with a horn. Their fur turns silver as they grow, and the silver eventually fades into white then they've reached maturity," Hermione replied in the same tone of voice, irritated.

"A unicorn foal?" Arthur looked like he didn't quite know what to do with that possibility.

"What? How did you think they came into existence? Did you think they magically popped out of thin air, fully grown?" Hermione asked dryly.

"Well, they are magical beings."

This was going to be a long day.

"Then we should probably just walk around it then?" One of the knights piped up, trying to be helpful.

"It's probably the safest bet," Merlin agreed.

"Not without it being distracted. Unicorn foals are kind of fidgety when it comes to men." Hermione said.

"Then how the Hell do you suppose we move forward?" Arthur asked.

"It may have escaped you notice your highness, but I'm not a man." Hermione brushed slowly past the monarch, before pausing and looking back. "Just wait 'til I give you the go-ahead."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Merlin watched in amazement as Hermione slowly moved towards the foal, which had stopped munching away and had been watching them with curiosity. She was murmuring quietly and gently, unintelligible words in a comforting tone. The foal looked at her and, once she had some space between her and the men, slowly shuffled forward, clearly intrigued by the odd creature it had encountered.

It sniffed at her gloved hand, and poked at it with its muzzle. Hermione slowly turned her hand around and started gently petting the foal. It made a contented noise and, as Hermione moved slightly closer, rubbed its head against her hand, until she was scratching the spot behind its ear.

It closed its eyes, letting out a pleased sigh, and Hermione looked back, nodding them towards the trees to their right. The men moved quietly through the trees, careful to make as little noise as possible. When they were an equal distance from the foal as they had been before they returned to the small trail.

Hermione then smiled at the happy unicorn before saying gently, "Okay, little one, I have to go now… Bye bye."

She slowly circled around it, sliding her hand along its side. The foal looked at her sadly, obviously wanting her to keep petting. Hermione gave a soft laugh as she backed away towards the rest of the group, who stood open mouthed behind her.

"That… What…" Arthur blurted out, looking shocked beyond belief. "How did you know what to do?"

"I told you. We're taught about magical creatures at Hogwarts. We learn about unicorns when we're fourteen. Or was it fifteen?"


End file.
